


Serengeti tale

by Anonymous



Series: Absolutely Untrue Series [1]
Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:59:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That was how the nature worked, year after year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Serengeti tale

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the wonderful documentary Nature’s Great Events: the Great Migration, I wrote this fic last year and finally work out an English version. I wonder if anyone has written such kind of AU fics in this fandom. It’s weird, but I hope it's not too weird. Pls don’t ask why the lion acts like this, he simply does in this universe. Not beta’d. Not native speaker. All the mistakes are my own. I'm sure there are many:-(   
> 中文版http://sunny0421.blog131.fc2blog.us/blog-entry-208.html

Opening his eyes, Lion Roger was welcomed by the sunlight of a brand new day, which he was sure would be as wonderful as all the days before.

This was the best time of the year.

Eruptions of Ol Doinyo Lengai, so called ‘the mountain of God’ in Massai, produced a great quantity of volcanic ashes, which covered and fertilized the soil of the Serengeti plain. Rainfall moisture woke up short grasses to show their freshness and vitality. They soon spread across the plains, attracting hundreds of thousands of blue wildebeests, zebras and many other animals despite of all kinds of hardships they might have met during the long journey moving south from Kenya. With so many choices on the menu, what Roger should do was to simply stay beside a pond, waiting for no matter which one that came to drink water.

One day, a female zebra accidentally broke into his territory with a cub. Roger caught her and finished her life relentlessly. Having eaten his fill, Roger began to lick clean his fur, arrogantly throwing a glance at the cub, who seemed to be a newborn little thing, barely able to walk. Lucky for him, Roger thought, he didn’t feel like taking a dessert. To his surprise, the little zebra didn’t show the least amount of fear or fled away, au contraire, he stumbled towards Roger. Obviously, he mistook Roger for someone of his kind. Roger waved his leg impatiently, kicking the little thing a few meters away. He wagged his tail happily on his way back for a nap.

Roger saw the little zebra again a few days later. Actually, zebras all looked the same to him, or at least they were supposed to be so with their messy black and white stripes, which helped them confuse and escape from predators. But what really confused Roger was the fact that he did distinguish the little zebra from the others. This kind of family show never suited his taste, but he just couldn’t tear his eyes away. The little zebra was able to walk steadily now. Roger saw some adult zebras circle around him to protect him. He heard them call him Nole. He suddenly changed his mind, deciding to hunt wildebeests instead before walking towards another area of his territory. Taking the amount of zebras into consideration, it was certainly easier to get a wildebeest, he convinced himself, and he needed to have a change in diet anyway.

During the next two months, Roger saw zebra Nole almost every day. He watched zebra Nole grow stronger day-by-day and run like the wind on the plain. He didn’t know why he paid so much attention to that almost-ended-up-in-my-mouth zebra, so he chose to ignore the question that haunted him.

Time flew like an arrow and soon came the end of May, wind redirecting, rainwater reducing. Roger knew the rain belt would begin to move north and the dry season would come. Before him was a cruel challenger. Following the smell of moist grasses, large herds of wildebeests and zebras ran to the Mara River and then Kenya, known as the Great Migration. Roger watched migration teams stretch several kilometers in front of him, trying to figure out how to survive in the next few months.

Short grasses withered quickly without rainwater. In August, not many species kept living on the plain that once was full of the beauty of life. As Mice can get sufficient seeds, they don’t fear the dry season in Serengeti, which serves wildcats as a source of food. Giraffes show their grace in chewing juicy acacia leaves. Mother leopards run at lightning speed and hunt preys for their children. Only Lions, kings of beasts, seemed to be trapped in abjection. In hot weather, water in ponds has long evaporated into the air and nothing but mud left, so Roger had to walk miles to some small woodland to hunt and search for water. Underbrush was proved to be a good cover. If he got lucky, really lucky enough someday, he might be able to catch a warthog, which is a rare delicacy in the dry season. But in most cases, he just came back empty-pawed, enduring the torture of hunger that seemed to ripe his stomach off from inside.

The annual dry season was always intolerable, but he believed that everything would be alright, just like what happened in previous years. However, in addition to the rain season, he felt he was also looking forward to something else this year, something important but he wasn’t sure what it was. The process of waiting seemed to become unbearably long because of expectations. The greater the expectations were, the lonelier he felt.

One night, Roger had a beautiful dream. In his dream, he felt raindrops were falling down, tender grasses were struggling to emerge from the ground, and the herds were finally coming back. He was so flooded by joy that he happily grunted some nonsense. Thunder roared deeply, luring him into haziness before strong smell of smoke dragged him into total awareness. Roger opened his eyes, thick black smoke obscuring the view. What he heard wasn’t the roar of thunder but the roar of Ol Doinyo Lengai. Boiling lava ran down the mountain, burning out all the woods, which had long been baked dry under the sun and quickly burst into flames.

The situation became tougher as days went by. It was in October, which meant Roger needed to wait two more months. He was almost worn out, but he had to keep patience for the return.

In November, the direction of wind shifted again, the rainy season re-visiting Serengeti. Finally. In December, millions of wildebeests and zebras re-gathered on the plain, ready to breed, to begin and complete another reincarnation. But the lion Roger didn’t see zebra Nole. Right, in front of him were countless zebras, and six months was enough for a little zebra to change his appearance, nevertheless, Roger was sure that if he saw Nole, he would recognize him. Not until the moment came when all the hopes died did he realize what he was waiting for.

However, there was something Roger didn’t know and would probably never know. At the night when he was awakened by the volcanic eruption, Nole was caught by a Nile crocodile while crossing the Mara River. He struggled desperately, powerful hind legs thrusting against the ground, but the Nile crocodile bit him in the neck hard enough that his sharp teeth ripped apart Nole’s flesh and Nole failed to get rid of him. His strength was gradually weakening and he was eventually dragged down into the river by the crocodile. That was one of the most normal scenes in nature. That was how nature worked, year after year. Nole’s companions ran past him, sparing several seconds for a glance, or not, glad that they escaped such a miserable fate , not daring to stop on their way to the land of freedom.

No one knew in the distant short grass plain, there was a lion waiting, waiting for a zebra that would never come back.  
Fin


End file.
